


Fair Play

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, AU, F/M, Hyperion Heights, PWP, Smut, Woven Beauty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: A follow-up to February’sSnow, Sweaters, and Sunny Vacations. Weaver and Belle get up to mischief during a meeting at the police station and get their own back on each other afterwards.Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “Trying to/playing footsie during a meeting”





	Fair Play

Ever since he had started dating Belle French, Weaver had found himself dreading the weekly briefing meeting. It had never been his or Belle’s favourite part of the week even before they’d got together. It mainly consisted of the captain droning on at them for half an hour and everyone trying not to fall asleep when they could be getting on with the more important business of solving crimes.

Now that they had commenced their relationship, however, Belle had found a way to make weekly briefing meetings much more interesting. He’d had to start a game of cat and mouse to make sure that he arrived in the meeting room at exactly the right time to avoid getting a seat in her immediate vicinity. If anyone else in the precinct who knew about their relationship found it odd that Weaver appeared to want to sit anywhere but next to his girlfriend, then they didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t that Weaver didn’t like being near Belle. It was more the fact that if he was within reach, then, inevitably, at some point during the meeting, he would end up with her hand or foot in his crotch under the table.

It certainly livened up the usually boring briefings – he wasn’t taking in any more information than he had done before, but it was a much more enjoyable distraction – but the number of times that he’d had to walk out of the meeting room with his folders strategically positioned in front of him was getting to be ridiculous. On the upside, more often than not, the briefing was followed by Belle dragging him into the bathroom or the cleaning closet to relieve his predicament.

Today, Weaver thought as he made his way into the meeting room, he was going to get his own back. Two can play at that game. Idly he wondered if Belle had only been so persistent in her efforts because she was actively trying to elicit this kind of reaction from him. They’d always teased and wound each other up like that, even back when they had just been friends. Now that they were sleeping together, a whole new swathe of interesting teasing methods had become available to them, and Weaver really couldn’t say that he was sorry about that.

Belle was not far after him and settled herself in the chair opposite, a sly little smile on her face. He matched it with one of his own, and Belle raised an eyebrow.

“If I didn’t know better, Weaver, I’d say that you had something up your sleeve.”

“There is nothing up my sleeves, French, I can assure you.”

“Well, whatever it is that’s not up your sleeve, I’m intrigued to see what happens in the next half an hour.”

“I’m not.” Rogers had come in and was looking between the two of them. “It’s bad enough being in the same bullpen as you two. Being in the same meeting room is hell.”

Weaver considered apologising to his partner, but then he decided that the poor newbie hadn’t been traumatised enough just yet and he could take another meeting. Rogers just rolled his eyes and went to sit as far away from them as possible. The room was beginning to full up when Weaver first felt Belle’s toes drifting up the inside of his right leg, but he tried not to let it show. He had revenge to enact, after all.

He nudged Belle’s foot out of the way with his own, not missing her quirked eyebrow. Normally such an action would not really deter her – only if he had actually been called upon to speak at the meeting in which case she would let him do his job properly without her distracting him. As the meeting had not officially begun yet, however, she would normally have risen to the challenge. Now though, she let him be for a moment, which gave Weaver time to get his own shoe off. Since Belle generally wore high pumps on the days she was bound to her office with paperwork, the removal of footwear was much easier for her. Even on the days when she would be out and about and her sky-scraping heels would not be practical, she tended to stick with dainty little ballerina flats that her toes could easily slip out of.

Weaver succeeded in toeing his shoe off just as the captain entered the room and began his usual speech, and their little game was paused for a while just in case they missed anything incredibly important in the agenda. Once it was established that there was nothing that they needed to pay very close attention to, all bets were off, and Weaver lightly dragged his toes up the inside of Belle’s leg, mirroring what she had done to him. Once he had reached her knee, he drew back, giving her a little quirk of a smile. _Your turn._

Sure enough, a few moments later, Belle’s toes were back, drawing a little circle over each of his kneecaps. It took all of Weaver’s concentration not to jerk his leg up and jolt the table; he had remarkably ticklish knees, and Belle knew it. Her featherlight touch, brushing his jeans up against his skin, was maddening.

He could feel the muscles twitching in his mouth, and Belle must have seen them too, even if no-one else in the room noticed it. She dutifully backed off, and let him have the floor. Weaver decided that it was time to raise the stakes a little. Belle had been a dancer in her youth and her legs were still toned and very flexible. His were not so. There would be no more real finesse from him today.

Well, not with his feet, at least.

He rested his foot on her chair as she had done to him so many times before, her legs falling open for him immediately. He was not quite touching her, but just the slightest movement would have his toes pressed against her crotch. She was wearing a short, light skirt today in honour of the seasons finally changing and spring well and truly gathering steam. With her legs apart like they were, it had probably ridden up enough that it would not be in the way for what they wanted to do.

It was a waiting game, now. Either of them moving would bring them into contact with each other, and he could see that Belle was on edge, anticipating him making the next move. Her eyes were narrowed, and he wondered if she would cut her losses and try to rub up against him, or whether that would be too noticeable in the meeting room. Neither of them were paying the slightest bit of attention to what the captain was saying anymore, both too focussed on each other.

Belle’s hips wriggled at the same time as Gold pressed his foot forward a little, and he saw the slight smirk she gave as his toes came up against the gusset of her panties. He couldn’t feel much through his sock and her underwear, and he probably wasn’t going to be giving her all that much pleasure through the layers, but the thrill of it was enough to make both of them a little hotter under the collar. The potential for discovery, and the naughtiness of doing something that they shouldn’t be doing in a place that they shouldn’t be doing it; they all conspired to make an action that was not in itself particularly tantalising into something much nicer.

Presently Belle reached down below the table, tracing a fingertip along the top of his foot. He wasn’t ticklish there, but there was still something very erotic in the action, and he felt his cock beginning to twitch in his jeans. He forced himself not to think about Belle’s fingers - he was determined to keep the upper hand here.

He flexed his foot, stretching out his toes and pressing closer against Belle’s crotch. She gave a soft little giggle, which had the unfortunate effect of drawing the captain’s attention towards them. She quickly pulled her hand back up from under the table, attempting and failing to look the picture of utmost innocence.

“Something you’d like to share, Detective French?” the captain asked.

“No, Sir. Nothing at all.”

He looked at her suspiciously for a few seconds before continuing to drone on, but Weaver decided that the threat of discovery had become too great, and it would not be wise to continue their little game. He moved his foot; probably just as well since the captain chose that moment to close the meeting, and people started moving out of the room. Perhaps they were all picking up on the heavy sexual tension under the table and wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. Weaver would have got up too, but he was only wearing one shoe and would have attracted far too much unwanted attention had his state of footwear been noticed.

Belle stood up primly and made to file out after the rest of the detectives, but Weaver called her back.

“Actually, French, there was a matter that I wanted to discuss with you. Alone.”

“Certainly, Detective Weaver.” She let everyone else out of the door; Rogers was the last one to leave and he looked between the two of them with a pained expression.

“Just don’t leave any evidence,” he pleaded.

“Of course we won’t,” Belle said sweetly. “All evidence must be kept in the evidence locker, as you well know.”

Rogers left them, muttering about not wanting to know what they got up to in the evidence locker, and Belle closed the door behind him, making sure that the blinds that cut off the meeting room from the rest of the station were closed before she came over and perched on the table beside Weaver’s chair.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about, Detective?”

Weaver just pulled her down into his lap with a growl, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss.

“I think you know full well what we’re going to be discussing,” he hissed. Belle grinned, rearranging herself on his lap so that she could rub up against his erection.

“You know, you acquitted yourself very well, I feel.” She took one of his hands from where he was clinging to her waist and brought it down between her legs, pressing his fingers up against the damp spot on her underwear. “I didn’t think you had it in you to play footsie during a briefing, Weaver. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, French.”

She grinned down at him. “Want to show me some of those surprises now?”

“I thought you’d never ask, my dear.”

They didn’t have much time before they would be missed in the bullpen and the captain would send someone - probably the much put-upon Rogers - to find out what the hell they were still doing in the meeting room, so speed was of the essence. Between them, they made quick work of Weaver’s belt and fly, freeing his cock, and Belle stroked him to full hardness as he slipped two fingers under the gusset of her panties, pushing them to the side so that he could stroke along her slick folds and rub her clit. He knew what he was doing with his fingers. Much more so than his feet.

Belle gasped his he brushed his fingertips around her entrance.

“Fuck, John, I want you inside me. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I walked in and saw you wearing that goddamn smirk of yours.”

Oh, Weaver loved it when her filthy mouth came out. She was always so neat and prim and polite during their daily life, but when he could push her to the point of profanity, he knew that he’d done something very right.

He’d started keeping his wallet in his jacket after sex in the office had become a regular thing. Trying to fumble about in back trouser pockets whilst in such a clinch as this one was a waste of valuable time. As it was, a condom was easily located and rolled on, and he stifled his groan in Belle’s shoulder as she sank down onto his length.

“God, Belle…”

She pressed her fingers over his mouth to silence him, rolling her hips in a way that Weaver swore ought to have been impossible. He jerked his own up to meet her, and they fell into a quick and almost silent rhythm, Belle’s fingers still pressed over his lips, their panting and the cleaving of their bodies the only sounds in the meeting room.

It wasn’t going to last very long; these lightning trysts all over the station never did, but Weaver was determined that Belle would not miss out for that. He found her clit again, rubbing rapidly in time with their movement until his own orgasm overtook him and his fingers stilled against her pearl, her hand keeping his guttural moan of release muffled. Her walls were fluttering around his cock, milking him dry, and with a final shunt of her hips to rub up against his fingers once more, she followed him over the edge, her mouth wide in a silent scream of joy.

Finally she moved her fingers away from his mouth in order to kiss him. With her face so flushed and her hair coming down from its usually tidy ponytail, Weaver didn’t think there would be any denying what they’d got up to alone in the meeting room, but he categorically couldn’t care less.

“You’re getting much better at keeping quiet,” Belle murmured softly as he pulled out of her and dealt with the condom. “Maybe next time, we’ll see how quiet you can be without my hand over your mouth.”

Weaver raised an eyebrow as he gave her wet slit a final stroke before pulling her panties back into place. “You know, there are other ways I can keep my mouth occupied.” He licked his lips at the thought of laying her down on the table right here and eating her out. Hell, he’d be happy to do it right now, if there wasn’t work to be done burning holes through their desks.

Belle straightened out his jeans and they made to leave the room looking as presentable as possible, and yet still thoroughly fucked. As she caught his eye on their way back to their desks, he saw her grin, and he knew what it meant.

Maybe they could sneak back into the meeting room later for round two.


End file.
